


sleeping beauty

by 249b_east_35th



Category: Glee
Genre: But everyone is really onboard just asleep, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex, Sick Character, Somnophilia, Trope Bingo Round 14, tagged as underage because i really dont know canon or how old these people are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25107898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/249b_east_35th/pseuds/249b_east_35th
Summary: Trope Bingo fill for non-penetrative sex squareDate night is cancelled when Kurt gets sick, but Blaine stays over to play doctor.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37
Collections: Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	sleeping beauty

Blaine’s been planning this night for weeks. A tiny local theatre is showing _Rent_ , then they'll go to that dessert place across the road and split the cake because Kurt always insists he won't eat a whole piece, then back to Kurt's house. Burt and Carole are away for the night, and there's the unspoken promise of making out in Kurt's bed after Blaine drives him home.

That had been the plan, anyway, until Finn answered the door at the Hummel-Hudsons’ and let Blaine into the middle of an argument between Kurt and Rachel. 

It’s not that Blaine’s surprised to see Rachel there—Finn and Kurt both schedule date nights when their parents aren’t home—and the fighting is nothing new, but it’s the least put together Blaine's ever seen Kurt. He's in sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, for one, and his hair is more bedhead than artfully tousled.

Rachel yanks her shirt over her nose and mouth. "Kurt Hummel, get back upstairs. I'm not letting you give me some horrible disease and ruin my chance at a solo for—”

"It's a _cold_. Not the plague." Kurt's bitchy voice only suffers a little from his blocked sinuses. "I'm staying in my room, you're safe—"

“Uh, Kurt?” Finn mumbles.

Kurt’s gaze finds Blaine and his eyes widen. "Oh my god, we had a date."

"We did. I'm guessing you're not feeling well?"

"I meant to text you. I must have fallen asleep—"

"It's okay."

"Blaine can always help us rehearse,” Rachel says brightly.

"I think I'll hang out with Kurt for a while." Blaine glances back at Kurt. "We could watch a movie? If you feel like having company."

"I probably won't be much fun. And you'll just end up getting sick too."

"I've been kissing you all week, I might have already caught it.” Blaine lowers his voice. “Anyway, if I have, then you'll have to take care of me for a bit."

“Like you’d let me,” Kurt says, his voice soft and teasing. 

It’s evidently too much for Finn, who suddenly becomes very interested in the game playing on the TV.

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Come on, before Rachel decides you and Finn have to compete to be her duet partner.”

Blaine follows Kurt upstairs to his bedroom. It’s dark, curtains drawn tightly with only the bedside lamp on to allow some soft light. It's also messier than Blaine's ever seen it. The bed is unmade, covers shoved off to the side, clothes are strewn about the floor, and there's tissues and discarded tablet packets scattered over his bedside table.

"Sorry about the mess. I meant to clean up but I took a four hour nap instead."

“It isn’t that bad.” Blaine closes the door behind him. He intends to say something else, but that’s when Kurt pushes his pants down over his hips, revealing long, pale thighs, and Blaine can’t find his voice. 

He’s seen Kurt naked before; they’ve _had sex,_ more than once, but Kurt had always insisted on low light, still blushing and awkward without the comfort of multiple layers. But now he's thoughtlessly stripping in front of Blaine, his shirt joining the pile of clothes on the floor.

Blaine finally tears his gaze away, eyes fixed on the floor as Kurt changes, hearing clothes hitting the floor and trying not to let his imagination run away with him.

"I didn't mean for you to see me like this until we'd been together for at least another six months."

"You're just sick, Kurt." Blaine looks up.

It's not better.

Kurt's in an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of gym shorts that are shorter than anything sold as men’s clothing, exposing more inches of his thighs than Blaine is entirely comfortable with. He’s sitting on the bed, leaning back against a mountain of pillows.

“I can go if you want to sleep,” Blaine says, praying that Kurt doesn’t actually agree to that.

“No, stay. We can still have a movie date. What do you want to watch?" Kurt says, somewhat reluctantly getting up to set up his laptop.

"You choose, I don't mind."

Kurt vetos musicals, citing his sore throat and subsequent inability to enjoy them properly by singing along, and they end up with _Casablanca._ Blaine's seen it, probably one too many times, but he'd watch a _Saw_ marathon if Kurt asked him to.

He ends up squirming uncomfortably in jeans for the first ten minutes before Kurt notices and tells him to borrow some clothes. It had felt silly going to the bathroom to change, but Blaine's hyper-aware of Kurt's gaze as he undresses.

"You need to come over and take your clothes off more often," Kurt says.

Blaine's cheeks burn and he knows he's gone bright red. He hurriedly pulls on the sweats he'd found in Kurt's dresser. They're too long and Kurt's nose crinkles as he tries not to laugh when Blaine has to cuff them so he doesn't trip. 

"Don't say it," Blaine mumbles, voice muffled as he wriggles into an age-worn tee bearing the Hummel Tires and Lube logo.

"I think it's cute."

Blaine sits next to him, resting his back against the headboard and stretching his legs out over the bed. Kurt moves closer, curling up against Blaine’s side. It’s a pretty obvious hint for a cuddle, and Blaine wraps his arm around Kurt, feeling his thin frame under his fleecy sweatshirt. He’s too thin, really, and Blaine briefly wonders whether Kurt would protest if Blaine tried to feed him.

"Typical,” Kurt says after muffling a cough against Blaine’s shoulder. "The one night we're here alone and I catch death."

"Not exactly alone. Knowing our luck, Finn would walk in on us."

"Mm. I'm still using his browser history against him. He hasn't told my dad anything in weeks." Kurt yawns. "So you can sleep over if you want.”

“If you’re up to it," Blaine says, keeping his tone deliberately casual. No parents means a chance to sleep in Kurt's bed, something Blaine hasn't done since that night he drank too much and nearly messed everything up with them.

“Yeah.” Kurt’s eyes close briefly, and he leans his head against Blaine’s shoulder. 

It feels weirdly like a privilege to see Kurt like this. He usually has so many walls up, even with Blaine, that it’s a novel experience seeing him so open, so vulnerable. Blaine cups Kurt's cheek with his free hand, tilting his head back to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Ugh. Don’t, Blaine. I feel gross right now.” Kurt turns his head to cough, his sleeve pressed to his mouth.

Blaine winces. Not because it sounds disgusting—it kind of does, although he’s not going to tell Kurt that—but because he knows how bad his boyfriend must feel. He strokes Kurt’s hair, feeling it stick to his sweaty skin. He’s definitely got a fever, and as Blaine pretends to watch the movie, paying more attention to Kurt, he can tell Kurt’s deteriorating pretty quickly. Blaine can hear his breathing change, becoming shallow and laboured. Kurt sniffles, whimpering softly.

"Are you okay?" Blaine kisses Kurt's forehead.

Kurt’s eyes are wet with tears. “I feel really sick.” He slumps down, sprawling on his back with his head in Blaine’s lap.

Blaine strokes his hair and Kurt closes his eyes, turning his head to press against Blaine’s hand like a cat begging to be petted. Blaine’s fingers wind through Kurt’s soft hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.

“When’s the last time you had any medicine?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt mumbles. “Just before lunch.”

Blaine glances at Kurt’s alarm clock. It’s nearly six; surely enough time has passed. “Okay. You need to take something.”

“Mm. Everything’s downstairs.” Kurt shifts off of Blaine’s lap, wriggling towards the edge of the bed.

“Stay there. I’ll get it.”

“You’re like, the best boyfriend ever,” Kurt mumbles.

“I know.” Blaine pulls the blanket over Kurt before getting up and heading downstairs. 

Finn isn't the most observant person in the world, but when they meet in the kitchen, it takes him about point two seconds to realise Blaine is wearing Kurt's clothes, and there's no way that fully clothed cuddling is what comes to mind.

All Blaine can do is brazen it out and pray that there’s some kind of bro code that still applies to your brother’s boyfriend. “Kurt needs meds.”

“On the counter. Um, we're going to Breadstix and then a movie." Finn hesitates, as if he wants to say something else.

"I'll stay. Kurt will be fine,” Blaine says evenly, not taking his eyes off Finn. 

They all know Blaine’s not meant to stay overnight without parental supervision, but Blaine’s willing to bet that Finn will overlook it in the hopes of sneaking Rachel in later.

“Okay. Hey, Mom and Burt will be home in the morning, so… maybe don’t be here.”

“Sure.”

“Finn, we have a reservation,” Rachel reminds him, and with barely a goodbye, they’re out the door.

"That went well," Blaine mumbles to himself before turning to the counter.

There's a bottle of cough syrup that looks unnaturally pink and a pack of cold tablets. No indication of what Kurt's taking, so Blaine grabs both along with a bottle of water. 

Upstairs, he has to pause in the doorway. Kurt's fallen asleep in the time it took Blaine to collect everything. He's sprawled across the bed, blanket kicked to the floor. His long bare legs stretched out next to the laptop that's still playing a movie. The blue light from the screen flickers across his body.

Blaine's next breath is shaky, uncontrolled. 

His bare feet are soundless on the floor as he carefully closes the laptop and sets it on Kurt's desk. Kurt eventually stirs when Blaine sits on the edge of the bed. Blaine reaches out and brushes his fingers over his boyfriend's cheek and Kurt wakes with a sleepy noise, eyes blinking open. 

"Hey," Blaine whispers. "I brought your medicine."

Kurt stretches, rubbing his eyes. "Is Finn still here?"

"He's going out with Rachel, so you should be able to get some sleep." Blaine helps Kurt sit up and pushes a spare pillow behind his back.

"Thanks." Kurt sniffles. "Drugs, please."

"Which one are you taking?"

"Both."

"Are you sure?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. " _Yes._ The tablets don't help with the cough."

Blaine measures out the maximum dose of cough syrup and pops out two of the night-time cold and flu tablets. They’ll knock Kurt out pretty quickly, Blaine thinks absently. The idea makes him feel a little odd, somewhere low in the pit of his stomach.

Kurt takes the tablets without complaint, but the cough syrup makes him gag. "What is in that?"

"Strawberry flavouring, apparently."

"It's disgusting," Kurt whines.

"I know. It works, though. Can't cough if you're unconscious." Blaine gives Kurt a bottle of water.

"That doesn't sound creepy,” Kurt mumbles between mouthfuls of water.

“Are you always like this when you’re sick?" Blaine tries to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks.

"You're the one who insisted on staying here to play doctor." Kurt looks up at Blaine through dark eyelashes.

“I’m taking care of you because you’re my boyfriend and I think the fever is eating your brain.” Blaine reaches out and brushes Kurt’s hair out of his face.

“Then you should cuddle me while you still can.” Kurt leans over to set the bottle of water on his bedside table.

Blaine gets into bed and Kurt snuggles against him, nosing into Blaine’s chest. He wraps his arm around his boyfriend, rubbing his hand over Kurt’s back, feeling the ridge of his spine. Kurt sighs and cuddles closer, presses his face into the curve of Blaine’s neck and shoulder, his fingers curling into Blaine’s shirt. It doesn’t look comfortable but Kurt doesn’t seem to want to move. He’s sleepy, his eyes fever bright, and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his skin even though he’s shivering.

“Get under the blankets if you’re cold.” Blaine presses a kiss to Kurt’s forehead.

“You’re warm. Better than the blankets,” Kurt mumbles. His lips brush Blaine’s skin as he speaks, making Blaine shiver.

"No, come on. Getting cold will make it worse." Blaine eases out of Kurt's arms and leans down to pull the blankets into some kind of order.

Kurt has about seven layers and way too many pillows on his bed at any given time, so it's not easy. Eventually, though, Blaine's on his back underneath the covers, Kurt clinging to him. Blaine should ask Kurt if he wants to resume the movie or something, anything to distract from being in his boyfriend's bed in an empty house. But he doesn't want to.

Blaine knows it isn't right, but he just wants to enjoy this for a while. Kurt's all over him while barely dressed and all warm and _sleepy_ , and Blaine…

Blaine is shamefully, unbearably turned on.

It's not something he's proud of. It's not something he even really _understands,_ despite the terms like fetish or kink that he first stumbled upon during his covert sex research.

It's just something Blaine's into. He likes seeing Kurt like this; he has ever since the time Kurt fell asleep on his shoulder on the bus back from Regionals. He'd sat there, paralysed, focus narrowed to the warmth of Kurt's body and his steady, deep breathing. 

Blaine had tried to shove it aside, to refrain from picking at it, examining it. But deep down he knows why. When Kurt's like this, he's… relaxed. Not performing. He isn't worried about how he looks or whether he's meeting the standards he's set for himself. His guard is down and he's trusting Blaine entirely. It's a side of him that Blaine doesn't often get to see and that knowledge is intensely thrilling.

"Sorry we didn't have a proper date," Kurt mumbles.

"I don't mind," Blaine says honestly. "I still get to see you."

"Yeah. It's just that my dad isn't here. I wanted to… you know."

"Another time. When you're not sick and about to fall asleep."

Blaine instantly knows he's said the wrong thing. Kurt's grip tightens on his shirt and he leans back a little. 

"You can, you know. I don't mind" Kurt's gaze is steady, his voice quiet and serious.

"Kurt, don't—"

"I'm giving you permission."

Blaine nearly forgets how to breathe. He'd tried to forget it, the whole painfully awkward conversation. He'd never wanted to talk to Kurt about it, but there was too much to hope Kurt didn't notice. The nights when he would fall asleep on Skype and Blaine would stay online, the sound of Kurt's breathing hitting him somewhere he couldn't explain. The way Blaine insists on taking care of him, being more than just an attentive boyfriend.

Kurt had asked what Blaine wanted, barely able to meet his gaze, cheeks going bright red. Blaine remembers exactly what he'd said.

 _Just looking. Touching, maybe._ Then, hastily, _only if you were comfortable with it._

It hadn't gone anywhere; Finn had come home and Blaine had left—fled, really—and it seemed as if they mutually decided not to bring it up again. But now—

Kurt’s moving, warm body squirming closer, rubbing against Blaine. Blaine tenses, barely breathing, as Kurt sighs and settles back against Blaine’s side. 

He doesn't know how long he sits there, not moving, feeling Kurt breathing hotly against his neck, waiting for his breaths to become deep and slow, for Kurt's body to become heavy and soft against Blaine's side. It might have only been a minute. It might have been an hour.

Blaine cautiously exhales, not letting his gaze drift down Kurt’s body. He just watches his face for a moment, the way the soft light plays over his features, relaxed with sleep. Even while sick, Kurt’s beautiful. His lashes are long and dark, fanned out over his pale skin, faint purple smudges barely visible under his closed eyes. He’s always looked so delicate; Blaine had noticed it the first time they met. Kurt had cried a little, blue eyes wide and wet, his lower lip swollen and pink from biting at it while they’d talked. Now, though, that tension is gone, his mouth slack, lips parted and slightly shiny in the faint light.

Before he’s even conscious of making a decision, Blaine slides his hand around to the back of Kurt’s head, cradling him as he eases Kurt onto his back. Kurt doesn’t put up a fight; he sprawls, limbs loose and heavy, over the bed. Blaine carefully removes his hands, sitting up to watch as Kurt groans in his sleep, wriggling against the sheets, and his sweatshirt lifts, revealing a strip of pale tummy above his shorts. 

Blaine reaches out, runs shaking fingers over the revealed skin. Kurt shivers, doesn’t wake up, but Blaine quickly jerks back anyway.

God, he _can’t._ This has to be the worst thing he’s ever done—ever _thought_ about doing, he hasn’t done anything, yet. Kurt said it was okay but he doesn't understand. He doesn't know how Blaine really feels about having this much power over Kurt right now, the way it makes something inside him twist up tight with the knowledge that he could do these things and Kurt would never have to know. That's something Blaine can't ignore, even if he knows there's no way he could ever forgive himself if he hurt his boyfriend.

But it wouldn't hurt, or so insists the tiny part of him that's given up on propriety. Blaine wouldn't do anything dangerous, or painful. He'd never dare to indulge in those deeper fantasies, the ones he hasn't brought up yet because he knows Kurt would never allow them even when he's awake. 

Kurt isn't there yet. Despite everything they've done together, Blaine thinks that somewhere, Kurt still doesn't believe he's desirable, doesn't know how much Blaine thinks about him late at night with one hand wrapped around himself.

Maybe this would prove him wrong.

Blaine closes his eyes, unable to look at Kurt. It almost makes it worse, this whole honesty thing. At least when Kurt was blissfully unaware, the decision was out of Blaine's hands. He _couldn't._ But now he can, and that's exactly the problem.

Blaine could just kiss him. He almost imagines doing it. Leaning down, pressing his lips softly to Kurt's cheek, then pulling the blankets up and going to sleep on the sofa. That's what a proper, respectful boyfriend would do. The kind of boyfriend Blaine's been trying to be since they started dating.

Just one kiss.

Blaine opens his eyes. He's still here, still in Kurt's bed, still watching his boyfriend sleep. He realises that he's shaking, and he doesn't think it's from the cold.

Blaine leans down, excitement bubbling up into his chest. Kurt’s cheek is hot but soft and smooth, no stubble to graze Blaine’s lips. Kurt’s eyelashes flutter but he doesn’t stir. 

He smells amazing, like the fancy cleansers and moisturisers and hair products that Kurt insists Blaine should learn how to use. There’s a hint of artificial strawberry on his breath, sugary sweet and medicinal. Blaine moves closer to kiss his lips, so softly that Kurt would barely feel it even if he were awake. 

The blankets shift over them as Blaine rearranges himself, holding himself up above Kurt just enough that his body still brushes Kurt’s when he leans down, the contact sending hot, shocking pulses of arousal through his stomach. He’s so hard, feeling as if he’s going to shiver right out of his skin. Blaine can’t get this idea out of his head, that he could do anything he wants to Kurt while he’s like this, shape and mould him any way Blaine likes. 

Kurt’s lips are parted like an invitation. Blaine kisses him again, firmer this time.

Kurt makes a tiny, sleepy noise that makes Blaine _ache,_ and his blue eyes blink open, bleary and unfocused. “Hi,” he breathes, his hands immediately curling into Blaine’s shirt.

“Hi.” Blaine’s cheeks feel warm. He’s on top of Kurt, still propped up enough to not crush him but not enough to believe Kurt isn’t going to know exactly what he’s been doing. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Mhm.” Kurt turns his head to the side to cough into the pillow.

Shame is eclipsed by concern as Kurt whimpers, closing his eyes again.

“You’re really sick, aren’t you?” Blaine strokes Kurt’s hair, making him nearly purr. Blaine knows how he must feel, slow and dopey from the illness and medication. “Poor thing,” he murmurs.

“It’s okay. You can still…” Kurt’s cut off by a massive yawn. “You’ll look after me, right?” It’s accompanied by a glance up through his lashes, his lower lip briefly catching on his teeth. “Help me sleep?"

“You were asleep just then, baby.” The pet name slips out; Blaine finds it hard to call Kurt anything else when he’s like this, all soft and needy.

Kurt looks up at him, blue eyes dark, and his thigh slips between Blaine's legs to press against his erection, and _oh._

Kurt closes his eyes, tilting his head back on the pillow. Feeling as if he's in the middle of a dream, Blaine leans down to press his lips to Kurt's throat, where the last shadow of a hickey still lingers on his pale skin. It brings back memories of Kurt's backseat after a date, taking advantage of those last fifteen minutes before curfew. It had been all not-so-chaste kisses and wandering hands, and Kurt guiding Blaine's mouth to his neck and begging him for something to look at later in the mirror and remember.

Kurt sighs and his grip on Blaine's shirt slackens, hands falling to his sides. He's usually so responsive to even the smallest touches. Blaine's sure it's because he's gone so long without it. Even something like Blaine taking his hand, fingers tangling with Kurt's when they sit next to each other, is enough to make Kurt melt.

Blaine has no idea how it could take so long for someone to notice how beautiful Kurt is, to want to kiss and touch him. He has no idea how it took _him_ so long. 

His hands slip up under Kurt's sweatshirt, coaxing it up inch by inch. He smoothes his palm over Kurt's chest, watching goosebumps rise on the pale skin. Kurt's nipples are tiny and pink and he gasps when Blaine's thumb rubs over one. Blaine does it again, agonisingly slowly, just to see Kurt bite his lip, furrow between his brows deepening as he reacts to the touch.

Blaine traces Kurt's torso, the curves of ribs and waist and hipbones above those tiny gym shorts. Kurt shivers, and Blaine jerks his hands away, realising too late that they must feel like ice.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispers, voice hoarse.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart. It's okay."

Kurt looks up at him with unfocused eyes, but it's only for a second until his eyelids droop and he turns his face into the pillow. It only takes a gentle nudge from Blaine to have him turning onto his side and curling around one of the honestly excessive pillows. It's so easy, Blaine realises, to manipulate Kurt however he wants. The only resistance he'll meet is that heavy, sleepy dead weight.

Blaine pushes Kurt's clothes out of the way again and his hands spread over Kurt's back. He traces Kurt's spine, his skin soft under Blaine's fingertips. This time, the only response is a faint shiver and quiet snuffling noises as Kurt struggles to breathe.

This is exactly what Blaine wanted, and he's only realising now that he has no idea what to do. It feels like their first time all over again, fumbling and awkward, all nerves and unfamiliarity. 

He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead to Kurt's back. It has to be freezing outside but it's hot in their little cocoon under the blankets. Blaine's hands aren't cold anymore; Kurt is radiating body heat and he's almost uncomfortably warm to hold.

Blaine's hand moves to Kurt's side, following the gentle curve of his waist down to his hip, then back up. Blaine is intimately familiar with the way Kurt's body feels under his hands, pressed against him, bare skin on skin under the sheets. His palm skims over Kurt's stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. The elastic waistband of Kurt's shorts hits his fingertips as they venture downwards. Blaine holds his breath as he continues, then exhales shakily as he cups Kurt through his shorts. He knows this too, knows how Kurt likes to be touched. He can recall with perfect clarity the first time he made Kurt whimper and beg and finally come in Blaine's hand, and every time after that. Blaine realises he's been making those familiar movements without thinking, rhythmically stroking and squeezing. 

Normally it doesn't take much more than making out and a touch on the thigh to get either of them hard. Tonight, though, Kurt's staying soft under Blaine's palm, even when Blaine's hand slips under shorts and briefs, feeling the feverish heat of his skin.

It's probably a combination of illness and medication and exhaustion. 

Blaine's finding that he doesn't really mind. There's something in the realisation that he will be the only one getting off tonight, a kind of delicious, shameful selfishness. 

Blaine opens his eyes as he eases his borrowed sweats down, careful not to disturb Kurt. His hands are shaking even as he takes hold of himself, stroking slowly. He's been turned on for so long, arousal simmering under his skin, that it feels like he'll last barely a second. He could just jerk off like this, come on Kurt's back, but he wants more.

Blaine wants to be inside him. He wants to hear Kurt's little sighs of pleasure as Blaine pushes in, filling him up. He'd be scorching hot around Blaine, and so tight, gradually relaxing as he fell asleep with Blaine still inside him. Of course Blaine knows he could never do that; while they're pushing boundaries, Blaine knows Kurt well enough to know he wouldn't want Blaine inside. Not like this.

He can imagine it, though. Coming home late, finding Kurt asleep. Pulling these little shorts out of the way to find him stretched open, ready and waiting. Blaine would push in slowly, not waking him until the final second or maybe not at all. 

He gives in, just for a second, and rubs himself against the firm curve of Kurt's ass. The fabric of his shorts shifts and bunches up with Blaine's movements and he pauses to hurriedly pull them down. He should have done this differently, should have made sure he could see Kurt's face, but he's so close as he takes hold of himself again. 

God, Kurt's _face._

Blaine allows himself, briefly, to consider something Kurt would never let him do. He can't let go of the idea of jerking off and coming all over Kurt's face, across his cheeks and closed eyes, rubbing himself against Kurt's plump, parted lips, painting them sticky white.

The movement of Blaine's hips stutters, heat surging through him, his hand tightening as he comes, not on Kurt's face but all over his ass and lower back, and Blaine’s eyes squeeze shut as the first streaks hit Kurt’s bare skin. He pushes into his own fist until it becomes unbearable, his muscles drawn up tense and tight, his skin prickling and oversensitive.

Blaine’s panting, eyes closed, face pressed against Kurt’s shoulder. He opens his eyes, unfocused, and all he can see is the pale drops of come on Kurt’s skin. He feels hot all over, as if steam should rise from his skin, trapped in this sweltering pocket underneath the sheets. 

Blaine throws them back and gets out of bed, wincing at the cold air hits him and brings him sharply back to the present. He feels shaky as he slips into the bathroom to collect a towel and soak a cloth in warm water. Blaine avoids his own gaze in the mirror; he’s still not entirely sure that he’s going to be okay with this, even if Kurt will. 

When Blaine returns to the bedroom, Kurt's still totally passed out, snoring lightly as he tries to breathe through his blocked sinuses. Blaine lifts the blankets an inch to slip underneath, not wanting Kurt to get cold.

Blaine's stomach tightens at the sight of his come streaked across Kurt's lower back. He’s struck with the sudden, irrational desire to leave it there. 

He seizes the damp cloth and wipes up the mess with a firm hand, sharply erasing the evidence. He follows with the towel, petting Kurt dry before easing his shorts up and smoothing his sweatshirt back down. Kurt’s hair is falling into his face and Blaine brushes it away, his fingers lingering on Kurt’s cheek. He lies down, finally, and Kurt turns over to cuddle against him, seeking out warmth. Blaine hugs him and kisses his forehead. 

They will need to talk tomorrow. To check in, to go over exactly what happened tonight.

For now, though, Kurt's asleep, and Blaine's happy to follow him. 


End file.
